


How I Wish You Were Here

by DizzIzzi



Category: Total War Series (Video Games), Total War: Warhammer 2, Warhammer - All Media Types, Warhammer Fantasy
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Because Galifreius is cute, Blend of both Canons, But it does get steamy at one point, Canon Pansexual Character, Canonical Character Death, Courtly Love, Elf Culture & Customs, Elves, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fairytale-esque, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, If you believe in that sort of thing, Light Angst, No Smut, Non-Canonical Character Death, Romance, Songfic, This fic is Fluff incarnate though, Total War: Warhammer Canon, Trans Female Character, Trans Galifreius, True Love, Women Being Awesome, Women In Power, Women Loving Women, and didn't deserve to get shafted like she did, bad breakup, it's complicated - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:21:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25409839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzIzzi/pseuds/DizzIzzi
Summary: A Tale of Romance between a Queen and her ex's Squire, written to and partially inspired by Pink Floyd’s album “Wish You Were Here”  The titles all come from the tracks, in order of appearance.
Relationships: Alarielle/Glaifreius, Past Tyrion/Alarielle
Comments: 17
Kudos: 7





	1. Crazy Diamonds

**Author's Note:**

> This work is inspired, and set within, the world of Total War: Warhammer 2 specifically, rather than the larger Warhammer Fantasy Battle continuity. I do not own the rights to either work, as they are owned by Creative Assembly and Games Workshop respectively, but, having fallen in love with their creative and imaginative world, I wish to write even more stories with their characters, concepts, and settings. My sincere thanks for making such an excellent work to hook me and introduce me to a wild and wonderful fantasy world that I might have otherwise overlooked.
> 
> Hello all! I had meant to post this almost as soon as I had finished it, months and months and months ago, but then... well...  
> I got in the way of myself, eventually. Shoved this totally complete work of romance literature onto a back burner for a silly reason. I even missed releasing this in time for the Warden and the Paunch expansion that, if I'm honest, would have made me rewrite some of the non-critical details to include the kick-ass stuff that came with it.  
> But! All that is passed. As of writing this I've not been doing so great, mentally, and haven't been writing as much because of it. I decided, whist lying in bed willing the days to slip by me until I could play Viking Vampires from Norway in Civ 6, that I should really get up and do something productive. This is that productivity, about time too.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this work of fanfiction, I had oodles and noodles of fun writing it.

There had been another fight. There’d been a lot of fights, over the many, many years, most of them ended up being through letters—not that Tyrion or Alarielle ever left Ulthuan, it was just easier that way. To say the politics of the Asur are tenuous is like saying the Dawi like to hold grudges—not that the Asur would ever admit that or compare themselves to the Dwarfs in the first place—the entire island seemed to be filled with… personalities, usually the kind that only got along because their parents said so. The fact that Tyrion—broody, moody, and firebrand Defender of Ulthuan—and Alarielle—the most beautiful, gracious and fiery Everqueen in living memory—ever hooked up was less of a surprise than how well they got along. But like all houses on fire, it eventually burns down.

It was, perhaps, the _worst_ time to be having a spat; Druchii were at Avalorn’s doorstep, Tiranoc was being especially troublesome and obstinate, a major trade deal with the men of the Empire had fallen through, and to top it all off _something_ was wrong with the Vortex. When the war camp of Alarielle the Radiant suddenly grew dark, stormy, and festooned with lightning those present feared the worst. Thankfully, despite all attempts to the contrary, no one was harmed during the exchange, although Tyrion came out with some singed hair and a distinct _crackle_ to him that he didn’t walk in with.

Alarielle had been _furious_. She hadn’t been present at the gathering where Loremaster Talarian laid out the stakes—she genuinely didn’t care about being there either, Tyrion would have filled her in afterwards if it was truly important—but when the fuming Tyrion stormed into her camp ranting and raving about his brother’s “stupidity” the Everqueen knew something was off, those two were normally thicker than sail cloth. It hadn’t been all that bad, when she’d just been listening, Tyrion went on and on about how foolish his brother was being, how idiotic and childish the mage was seeking outside help for their crisis, and over the course of the rant—along with occasional grimaces and the shaking of silent Galifreius’s head—she pieced together what happened.

More or less the minute the Everqueen tried to inject some rationality into the situation, voicing her opinion that, not only was this argument silly but Teclis was _right_ , Tyrion lost it. If his voice had been horse from before he went off on his queen, it was certainly that and more by the time she started shouting back. The lover’s spat took them on a journey across the map of Elven relations and their own, more personal, issues. It was as if every forgotten barb, every hastily said word that had been taken back or argued over, lined themselves up for their fifteen seconds of glory in the bout of the millennium. Issues that had been resolved— _actually_ resolved, not just papered over with platitudes or promises—took on ghastly unlife as the two lovers quarreled with Tyrion’s squire as their mute, cowering witness. To say the ground shook would not be hyperbole.

The two unchecked hellions duked it out, slinging words as if they were barbed bolts in an Eagle Claw, each one feeling complete disbelief over the reactions of the other. Tyrion felt that Alarielle was not only being too brash, but also didn’t understand the situation or the full stakes of what was going on; Alarielle increasingly came to the realization that Tyrion was an ass, and a major one at that. The more they yelled, the more they squabbled like children, the more she questioned what she saw in the man—sure, he was handsome, but what worth is handsomeness to someone who can pluck handsomeness from the vine like it was harvest season? She had loved him for his dashing bravery, his quick wit and thoughtful mind even if he was a bull-headed, stubborn idiot at times. The more they argued, the more she wondered where it had changed, when had it all gone wrong. Sure, the couple hadn’t spent _all_ that much time together recently—they’d only had a full year consecutively together in the last decade—but that wasn’t enough time for one person to have changed so dramatically… was it?

The last straw had been something Tyrion really, truly hadn’t meant. They’d been shouting about… well, it didn’t matter after he opened his mouth to say _“...and shouldn’t the position of Everqueen be about caring for the people’s needs, not galavanting about playing soldier?!”_ Tyrion did actually respect Alarielle’s prowess as a warrior and commander, had never once thought to question whether she should, instead, stay at home and cavort naked in the woods like previous Everqueens, but the words left his mouth, nonetheless. That was the moment the lightning bolt struck his helm. The fires lit in the Everqueen’s eyes drew deep from Tyrion’s ancestral blood, instinct memories of Anarion wielding the Widowmaker with that same look made his boiling blood rebel and run cold.

He’d left after that, not even saying a word, and traipsed, alone, back to where his army was encamped for their assault on the Griffon Gate. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah... the whole argument that sets off the High Elf Vortex game is incredibly out of character for Tyrion, the guy who in WFB spent most of his time on a world tour. The things you learn while researching ways for two characters to convincingly break up... ;-)


	2. Welcoming the Unexpected

Alarielle still fumed as Tyrion left, needing to come down off the virulent emotional high she was on, something which was helped along by an unexpected ally. Galifreius, Tyrion’s relatively new squire, had stayed behind instead of following her master and went to the Everqueen’s side with only a healthy dose of caution. “My Lady?” she had called out “if you wish to be alone, then I shall depart, but if I may be so bold…” By that point she had already crossed halfway to the other woman, hands outstretched in a non-offending, placating manner.

“What? Come to tell me your lord was not in his right mind?” Alarielle had spat, still raw and sore from her lover’s hasty words

“Not specifically, My Lady, although I feel some of the words he spoke did not come from a sane place of mind.” The blonde elf smiled at her Queen. “I was more of a mind to see if you wished an ear to listen, or a shoulder to lean on—n-not that I presume things above my station, My Lady! I j-just wondered, since I am here and all…” Her confidence faltered the further on she went, her words starting to dissolve into ramblings by the time Alarielle replied

“I…” Alarielle’s eyes fidgeted slightly as she spoke “I suppose it would be better to talk to someone else, rather than rant to Mother Isha or the grass and the trees… You may stay, Galifreius.”

The look the squire gave Alarielle was not only filled with warmth, but a considerable amount of relief as well. “A-ah, I am glad, My Lady.” Galifreius gestured to a patch of grass within the Everqueen’s personal sanctum “Shall we…?” The squire clearly was doing her best to take such initiative as was available, despite her incredibly obvious nerves.

“I… My Lady, I…” The poor woman floundered and faltered “I just… want you to know, My Queen, that I am not here to secretly report your words to my Liege-Lord. You have my strictest of confidence in this…” That, at least, got something akin to a snort from the Everqueen

“I am glad, Galifreius, that you are not some spy for Tyrion and instead doing this out of the goodness of your heart…” She seemed to ponder something before continuing. “... I must also apologize that you bore witness to the whole of this, it was not meant for others’ eyes, let alone ears.”

“I-but, My Lady, it is not like… like any of us could have known it would end like this… I am simply happy to be of some service to you…” Her timid smile was like a butterfly flitting around Alarielle as she walked the glades of Avelorn

“Well, I do suppose it is too late now to change that.” She instead turned to look the squire in the eyes “I just… Why must he be so-so stubborn? So _self-righteous?!_ He has always been brash, but never this… this…” Her tongue faltered as the Everqueen looked for the word. “This… BRAZENLY _STUPID_!” Her shout caused a roll of thunder to peel in the distance, her hands thrown up in frustration to mirror its intensity. “We have had disagreements in the past, that much is true, but this? Not once has he _ever_ questioned my validity as a warrior, as a _woman_ , and were it not for that I might have eventually forgiven his cruel words, but… but that I _cannot_ stand for!”

Galifreius took the burning fury of the Everqueen with stoic solidity, still anchored as she was to her Queen’s storm-colored eyes with her own amber ones. She sat still as the Everqueen went on,

“I do not even know what I _see_ in him anymore! When we first met, he was… he was brave and foolhardy and so, _so_ dashing with that smile of his.” Galifreius only nodded, knowingly. “And it was as if, whenever we talked, we were equals! Never in all my life have I…” Alarielle bit her lip, holding back the rest of her, rather revealing, rant. Thankfully, Galifreius was there to fill the space

“I… think I know what you mean, My Lady. If I may speak.” Her hands fidgeted as the squire began her tale. “Once, I had a lover. She… She was wonderful, and kind, and understanding, and never thought less of me no matter _what_ I did!” Tears pricked at her eyes as the maiden forged on, “But as the years rolled on… she… She grew more distant, or maybe I did, I cannot tell anymore. I— _we_ —woke up together one day and, when I looked beside me, I did not see the woman I had fallen in love with a century before…” Her wistful, mourning smile faltered even as her eyes did not “I cannot imagine what my lover saw when she looked at me…”

Only as she finished did Galifreius tear her eyes away from the depths of the Everqueen’s, a light blush involuntarily tinging her cheeks as she averted her face slightly downwards. Alarielle stammered, shook by such a tale “I… I did not know you had a lover…” 

“Yes, I… it was my first love, before I became a squire. I haven’t really had the time or inclination for more, since…” The elf woman’s tense shoulders seemed to relax slightly as she got such words off her chest, giving Alarielle a wry, silly grin “I imagine you, on the other hand, have had quite a few, My Lady…”

This, however, did not give the expected reaction “Ah-I… Well, yes, I suppose I have, but… It is hard to say whether I would call them ‘lovers,’ I feel…” It was now the Everqueen’s turn to blush lightly. “Most, to me, felt more like… dalliances… At least when I look back at them now—not to say they were not pleasurable, many were, but… they all lacked the _fire_ I had with Tyrion.”

“Even with the Phoenix King, My Lady?” If it was a question, or a tease, Alarielle could not tell

“I-um, well… we, umm… it’s not-” The woman flailed, wordlessly, around “I would rather not discuss such matters at this time!” Was what she eventually settled on.

The only words out of Galifreius’s mouth were a reassuring “As you say, My Queen.” The two sat in silence for some time before, finally, the squire got up to bid her Queen adieu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, Alarielle's love life...
> 
> Talking with her daughter after that argument might get awkward...


	3. Everybody Else's Just Green

Half a season went by, neither Alarielle nor Tyrion spoke or even wrote to each other, despite the latter ostensibly still being the Champion of the former. The Druchii advance was stymied once more in the blasted lands of Nagarythe, while its Lord was leading a shadow war against their dark kin across the sea. Alarielle’s army moved with vicious efficiency, cutting off group after group of Dark Elves as they made their winding way towards the Shrine of Khaine. Like so many times before, Ulthuan was once more cleansed of invaders—for the time being, at least—as Tyrion did the same for open rebellion within the nobility.

Alarielle was… well, if she was truthful with herself—which tended to cause the skies over Avelorn to pour rain and scream thunder—was not feeling once ounce of happiness, at all. Oh, sure, realizing that her longest-running lover, confidant, friend and so, _so_ much more was actually kind of an idiotic ass really hurt, but it was more the little things that got to her. More than once she had to chide herself when she nearly sent out a letter to Tyrion, asking him to tea or some other, frivolous thing. They weren’t speaking, after all.

With her campaign against the Druchii reaching its initial conclusion, Alarielle started to have more and more time to herself, or at least herself and one or two of her Handmaidens, and it was getting to her. She realized she had never, _ever_ felt this lonely, this desolate—the scenery certainly didn’t help either, even with the effect she had on it. It also didn’t help that something felt… _off_ in her war camp. She didn’t know what it was, but whatever it was made the hairs on the back of her neck stick up whenever her host was gathered _en masse_. _“Perhaps it is simply the stress of it all…”_ was her rationale.

It wasn’t as if she was entirely alone—the Everqueen was never without Handmaidens at her beck and call—but, well, neither were truly that close to her, so to speak. Of course, the three held meetings and had meals together, talked strategy and current events and even some gossip for fun but, but, neither were someone the Everqueen felt she could truly _confide_ in. Each were lovely women in their own right, wonderful women who excelled at their jobs and got on well with their Queen on and off the field, but they were there as a _duty_ , not simply because Alarielle, the woman, was there. She missed that.

She missed the intellectual conversations, the quiet moments in her tent cuddled up reading some novel or treatise or some other, more technical work. Alarielle had to admit to herself that, really, she missed the quiet moments more than the passionate ones, those lingering times when neither she nor Tyrion were anybody _but_ Tyrion and Alarielle. She had come to realize just how much she needed that…

When Loremaster Talarian sent a missive requesting access to the Pools of Isha for a scrying ritual, Alarielle had to be reminded why it was needed by one of her Handmaidens—having such a knock-down, drag-out argument tends to do that even to the best of people—and, after a moment’s consideration, granted his request with the condition that he visit her war camp afterwards to deliver news of what he had seen personally, before notifying anyone else. _“Turnabout’s fair play, all in all.”_

The two-person delegation that came into her war camp was, well, a little unexpected. She didn’t recall who the Loremaster had taken as his shield for this endeavor so when Glaifreius rode in on her Dapple-grey just behind him it caused the Everqueen to, subtly of course, do a double take. It wasn’t like the squire looked any different, she wore the same clothes as when they had talked in the glade so long ago, and she was not marred in any way, but all the same her presence caused the Everqueen to pause. Something tugged at her, wanted her to do… something, whatever it was.

As Loremaster Talarian talked, Alarielle found it hard to pay full attention to his words, her eyes kept drifting to those of the squire. She managed to get through the meeting with all the information she needed, but it had proved harder than expected, a trial she had not had the like of since… well, the last time Tyrion had attended any kind of council with her. The thought put her off guard, something Galifreius unwittingly took advantage of.

“My Lady” the supple squire said, “it is good to see you once more, I hope you are feeling better than last we spoke, even if it is not fully.” Her face was kind, caring, with just the right kind of sincerity to not come off as false but, instead, seem truly genuine. The fact that Loremaster Talarian had gone off to see to the horses more than a minute ago served only to put the Everqueen more off-balance.

“Ah…” she fumbled “Ah-well… no, not exactly. Better, I suppose, but-”

“But not really. I know what you mean, My Lady.” The squire’s smile felt like the light of Asuryan himself. “I know now is not the best time to pry, but I wanted to see how you were fairing and this is really my best chance right now…” Her smile became shyer, more subtle, unsure.

“Oh! Ah…” Why she was faltering was a mystery to Alarielle at that moment. “Thank you, Galifreius. You are a true friend.” Her words put a light in the other woman’s eyes “I am, well, not at my greatest, but better than when we last spoke, let us leave it at that for now.”

As the squire nodded and moved to leave, Alarielle found herself wanting to say something more, her mouth moving without intention of being stopped. “If you have the time, I would be more than happy to talk in detail over some tea—when you and I have some free time, that is.” She did her best to hide any blush creeping across her revealed flesh, Galifreius exposing how much worse at hiding such things she was.

“I-ah… I would like that, My Lady. I would like that a lot, actually…” The squire of Tyrion squirmed, moving her weight from foot to foot slightly, as she tried valiantly to hold Alarielle’s gaze. “I shall—if My Lady permits it, that is—I shall send a letter letting you know when next my duties do not inhibit me from taking you up on such an offer.”

This created the first genuine smile to grace Alarielle’s lips in nearly a season, one only for the squire before her. “I look forward to it then.” And with that, Galifreius bowed and left to attend to her own duties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hilariously, this is the chapter I had the hardest time naming...


	4. Wish You Were Here

Another tenday had passed, and with it came ill tidings. Alarielle knew, logically, that there had been a reason why she’d done it, not that there was evidence for certain either way. This Everqueen did not wear the diadem that traditionally adorned her brow, it only gave her a queasy feeling when it rested there now, nor did she march forth or even attend parties. She was hurt, deeply, soul-quenchingly hurt. To have a Handmaiden, someone she was supposed to implicitly trust, betray her in such a manner sunk deep into the very heart of all her insecurities, her secret ones she never showed to anyone. 

Joespharillis had not been with her all that long, relatively speaking, but she had always been one of her more… passionate defenders. At the Battle of the Phoenix Gate she had personally taken a shaft to the shoulder from one of the Gate’s emplacements to shield her Queen from certain death. Alarielle had cried day and night in the healer’s tent as she mended the grievous wound. Why then, the Everqueen wondered, would she have committed such heinous treachery? And against the Star of Avelorn of all things? Her spymaster assured her he would get to the bottom of this but, with the Handmaiden fleeing after Alarielle realized her treachery, she did not have much confidence in his claim.

To add further sorrow to her woes, her army had come to a standstill at the gates of the Shrine of Khaine. Alarielle always hated sieges, they took far too long and she had never been in one where neither the defenders nor the attackers stayed in any amount of good health. Even considering the meager size of the defenders, Alarielle was hesitant to commit her forces to a battle in which they might lose, to her, unacceptable numbers. And so, with a heavy heart, she sat within her tent and schemed for a way to uproot the Druchii from the Shrine.

It was always in moments like these, when the weight of so many hung, like the tip of a scale, in her hand, that she wished Tyrion was there with her. Even if the brash man did not consistently give her war council, he had always had a kind word or simple gesture for her, to ease or channel her mind instead of letting it run wild like it was. The ache in her chest pounded, yearning and loneliness and betrayal churning the roiling seas of her heart faster and faster, without thought to consequences. The Everqueen felt like she would go mad.

Nothing felt good, meals soured on her tongue and drink tasted only bitter and lacking, sleep was plagued by all those nightmares a leader, inevitably, must deal with but now came back with vengeance in their fervor. The amount of times she relived the siege of Avelorn, the flight from Slaneesh’s Daemons with a much younger Tyion held up only by the thread that was the untested Everqueen, was far too often for her liking. The fact that, because of the recent betrayal, she felt even more isolated, even less sure of who to trust, only made confiding in someone and getting the needed help to work through her problems more uninviting of a concept.

It was in this state, on the third day of the siege, that a letter came in by eagle to her tent. The bird, one that had seen service across years of private correspondence, was practically bred to know who he was to deliver to. It was Tyrion’s private line to her. The thought sent the Everqueen into a tizzy, conflicting emotions and thoughts became more hectic than the siege going on outside her tent flap. The bird politely poked her with his beak, reminding her that something required her attention.

The letter was short, more or less to the point, and far more welcome than what she had initially anticipated. The fact that it wasn’t actually _from_ Tyrion helped a bit, too. Somehow, Galifreius had co-opted this staunch, loyal bird into her service, attaching her letter to his leg and biding him fly with all speed to their Queen, far to the north. It was even dated and everything.

_“My Queen, My Lady”_ it read _“I write to you in regard to our previous meeting the tenday prior. I understand if this is, perhaps, too presumptuous of a mere Squire—even one so highly regarded by her liege, your Champion—but I would very much like to attend a private luncheon, if you would be willing that is, with Your Serenity. My duties, for the time being, are mostly to sit around and wait for the estimated Loremaster to have gathered what ritual components are needed to allow the Phoenix King and him to divine the next piece of the Star Crown for our quest. I would not presume to give my private opinion on the matter, but I assure you it is in no way, what-so-ever, incredibly and incessantly boring.”_ The fact that this got a short laugh from the Everqueen was probably its intention. _“Cadai willing, I was hoping the two of us would be free at some time by the beginning of the next tenday_. _Perhaps we could meet within your Court and lunch together, I may even have a recommendation for a piquant blend if you would have it, My Lady.”_ Alarielle’s brow raised, her interest piqued at such a brazen offer. _“Regardless, all I ever wish for is the best for you, My Lady. If it pleases you, send your response with this trusted bird, the truest I have ever known, and he will seek me out post-haste with it._

_May Isha bless you similarly as she has blessed me in my acquaintance with you._

_-Galifreius, Squire and Yours.”_

Somehow, the presumptions present in the letter didn’t have the usual effect they would have, if penned by another, on Alarielle. Usually, having someone, a minor noble at that, be so forward with her was at best an equally minor annoyance—people making presumptions on her time, tastes, and activities always riled her up in the worst way. Galifreius, on the other hand, somehow managed to adhere to and yet mock all the courtly traditions in the same sentence, cutting through improprieties and courtly distances like an assassin’s blade, all with a slightly self-mocking smile. Her attitude both idly puzzled and amused the Everqueen to no end.

In almost no time at all, the blonde elf sat at her desk to pen a response.

_“My Dearest Squire”_ she wrote _“it gladdens me to see that this crisis has not unduly affected you. As you may or may not know, I am currently embroiled within a siege at the Shrine of Khaine, but since its defenses are ultimately inadequate against the forces I have arrayed, I expect to see a successful conclusion within the time given us. It would please me to no end to take luncheon and tea with you and, while such specifics as exact time and dates cannot foreseeably be accounted for, I instead suggest a stay at my court over the second half of the next tenday upon receiving this missive. I understand your duty might, unfortunately, take you away from me in the interim, but I suspect it shall not be the case. I look forward to our conversations with great interest, I have missed your input and wit dearly. I bow to your knowledge of formidable blends, as well._

_May Isha be thanked for giving me such a blessing as she has with you._

_-Alarielle, Ever Queen and Yours.”_

She found her final wordplay to be particularly funny, to the point of one of her Handmaidens coming in to check on the source of her musical laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...
> 
> The Everqueen needs a therapist...  
> *Possible story idea acquired*
> 
> Also "F" in chat for Josepharillis, witch titties were just too hard to resit...


	5. So You Think You Can Tell

The time passed in a flurry for Alarielle, the siege and ensuing desperate last stand of the defenders felt akin to a whirlwind blur witnessed from afar. She hadn’t felt this good in _forever_. Even on the fields of death, her step was springy and light as she danced amongst the grim Sisters and their even grimmer bulwarks. If she was honest, it actually took her aback a little; even if she felt no reticence in going to war for what she held dear, she had never truly enjoyed experiencing the carnage, nor ever before been so lighthearted on the battlefield. In the privacy of her mind, Alarielle felt a tiny bit scared of herself.

Regardless, the battle had been handily won, even though both sides had been tired, the Everqueen had one advantage the defenders did not, her presence. With such bolstered vigor and vitality, her forces swept the beleaguered defenders aside from the steps of the Shrine before routing what was left of the witches and their ilk from their ritual site. The Everqueen had left her army, in the care of one of her dearest and most well-trusted Handmaidens, and marched what portion of her court she took with her back to the forests of Avelorn. She still worried over the betrayal, but when Bel-Elaine had confided in her, one evening over a meal, that she, too, had been taking it as hard as she, Alarielle felt compelled to try and place her trust in her longtime companion, at least this much.

Part of her had missed the gaudy tents, the hushed revelry that was omnipresent within the Court of the Everqueen, although that part of her had not been the part to pick up her bow and march to war almost a season ago. Her return, preceded by the procession of those select few whom she had chosen to accompany her on her campaign, was met with the most warmth and joy ever possible among the Asur. Elated to see the safe return of their Queen, the courtiers and nobles of her court threw the grandest feast, the most prestigious party possible for their lady-liege—it was something that did not go unappreciated.

However, once the first night’s festivities began to die down, Alarielle retired to her private sanctuary, wishing to be alone and, perhaps, will the days until Galifreius arrived to move just that much faster. If she thought about it—which she did, a lot, both on her way back and later in the privacy of her rooms—the more puzzling her… was it an obsession? It didn’t feel like the right word to her but whatever _was_ correct still lay out of her reach… only made a half sense to her. It was like how she felt, to a degree, when she and Tyrion had first begun courting one another—all giddy smiles and lying awake at night wishing to see the other next to them. 

The thing was, she knew Galfreius even less than when she had first begun to know Tyrion; the squire was not only new to Tyrion’s service but also from such a minor family as to be unknown, before that argument they had only met perhaps a handful of times, actually talked for less than half of them. Mostly, she had been a messenger for Tyrion, personally delivering letters and correspondences between the lovers when each was close, but too busy to meet in person. Something about her voice felt a little off too, like her memory remembered it being just a tad different…

Whatever was going on in her head, Alarielle decided it was best put off until after having lunch with her new favorite squire, perhaps a more relaxed, intimate meeting would help shed light on her own feelings… It took three more days until Galifreius made it to the Everqueen’s court, riding in on her Dapple-grey like a long-traveled messenger. The courtiers gossiped, of course—it was not the first time a squire of Tyrion’s was given odd looks and whispered conversations just within earshot, but Galifreius took it much better than Eldyra had, all those many years ago. The slender blonde maid walked with the kind of grace normally reserved for only the best players of The Game—a kind of ease of confidence and step that belied the predatorial stalk it really was—and her graceful dance through the various disparaging looks and muttered insults took Alarielle completely by surprise, this was a side of Galifreius she had never been privy to before.

By the time the young squire had reached the threshold of Alarielle’s private chambers, the Everqueen was secretly watching with rapt awe. The Handmaidens, of course, let her through without issue as they had been instructed to and the suddenly wide-eyed elf openly goggled at the interior of the Everqueen’s abode. Really, the place had been decorated ages ago, by Everqueens so far dead as to be only barely remembered by the annals of history and preserved because it was, well, tradition. Technically all the stuff was Alarielle’s but, really, none of it had been actually commissioned or brought in by her.

The Everqueen met her guest at the doors to a veranda, a nice secluded spot to have a private conversation and luncheon, and embraced the other woman in a warm hug

“It is good to see you again, Galifreius. I have missed your presence.” Clever Alarielle didn’t miss the blush that spread, briefly, across the other woman’s cheeks

“I—My Lady… you do me great honor saying such.” She swallowed before continuing. “I, too, have felt the absence of your presence in my life. It feels good to be in it once more.”

The Everqueen clapped her hands at this “Wonderful! Then, as we planned, would you do me the honor of joining me for lunch and tea, my squire?”

The blush came back with an unavoidable vengeance as the other woman flustered before getting out “Yes, My Lady, I would like that very much…” and making the tactical decision to shut her mouth for the time being as Alarielle, all too familiarly, placed a hand on her waist and guided her to the private table. Before the poor squire could come up with a thing more to say, her Queen decided to get the professionalism out of the way first

“So, my dear squire, how has the search for the Star Crown gone so far? Just yesterday I could have sworn I heard the mages chanting their incantations to bolster the Vortex, have we made significant progress with either quest? I have not been back in court long enough to receive regular updates”

Put slightly off her footing, Galifreius had to take a moment as she sat down on the gilded, latticework chairs before answering. “Ah. Well, My Lady, when I left the company of the Loremaster and the Phoenix King, both were sure that the second piece of the Star Crown was to be found beneath the harbor of Lothern, far under the waves” she cleared her throat “I thought it unnecessary that I be there when they found it, my skills are not needed for something such as that, really.”

Galifreius fixed Alarielle with a clever smirk and a glint in her amber eyes before continuing “I, myself, think my time can be better spent… elsewhere, at the moment.” The implication was certainly not lost on Alarielle, it even made her heart flutter and her mind flip disconcertingly.

“I-ah” suddenly on her own back foot, Alarielle now took her turn to shuffle and sputter “I am… glad, that the search is going so well as to not require your constant presence. I am also appreciative that you… choose to spend such time as you have with me, as well…” Her brain was doing cartwheels, why was it so challenging for her at that moment? It’s not like it was the first time she had been flirted with or even flirted with someone—Tyrion proved that, not to mention the others before or during him.

Galifreius’s giggle was like the ringing of a wind chime “It has been too long since I have been graced with your presence, My Lady. It was all I could think about during the time spent apart, if I may be so honest.”

Thankfully, for Alarielle at least, the first course of food arrived for their luncheon, carried in by silent maids on even more silent feet. The break in serious conversation allowed the Everqueen to take some time and reassess herself—and her defenses. There was something, something indescribable, about Galifreius that all too easily disarmed any poise she was able to wrap around herself. She wanted to find out what.

The meal went on—an Asur luncheon is only as good as the number of courses provided, after all—and as the time for tea rolled around Galifreius made good on her promise, procuring a small, hand-wrapped bag from her belt. “I do not know if you have ever had this blend, My Lady” was how she opened the conversation “but I assure you, I have found nothing finer than a blend of Bugman’s Dark for, well, any occasion really…” At that, the elf woman seemed to get just a tad bit bashful

“Bugman’s… Dark, you say? Is that not a beer the Dawi make?”

“Ah, well, yes, it is.” Galifreius explained. “This is… well, it is actually the remnants of the ale, sifted out and mixed with some herbs and spices once the distilling process has run its course. I find it is not as potent as the ale itself, but… I probably should have warned you before bringing it…”

The Everqueen leaned back as she mused “You have tasted their brew…? You are quite the traveled young lady, my dear squire. I wonder what other wonders you might have in store for me later on…”

The words, meant as a lighthearted tease, actually produced a quite different response than the one Alarielle hoped for. Galifreius stiffened, spine arching into a ramrod before every muscle in her body was forced to relax, to look natural. It was such a shame the Everqueen had to master the art of courtly intrigue so long ago, she might have gotten away with it otherwise.

“Yes, well… When one is the squire to the Defender of Ulthuan, no matter how new I may be, one must be prepared to try—and find—all sorts of new things. Master Teclis was extremely fond of ‘culturing’ me, before all this… _this_ , occurred.” 

Her smile did its best to be charming, disarming, and like a skilled player Alarielle decided to let this slip of something far greater go… for now.

“Regardless,” the squire shifted, “I did not come here solely to introduce you to a rather… unique type of tea. I am, more importantly, here to see how you are doing.” The look of genuine concern on Galifreius’s face wasn’t the kind a courtier would wear, however, and that, at least, put Alarielle at ease a little. “I just… I know how hard this all is and cannot imagine how even harder it must be, losing such a pillar of personal strength in the midst of an even greater crisis. I have not been in the presence of my Lord Tyrion of late, but I have gotten the feeling that he hurts, too, if privately.” She paused for breath. “I do not wish to see you hurting as well…”

Alarielle sighed “I… You are not wrong, Galifreius, to ask if I am hurting.” Her mind informed her of its decision before she could give it input, the most she could do was sigh. “I am. It hurts _so_ much, I feel sometimes as if it is a weight I cannot bear! Other times it feels as if that weight has been lifted entirely, as if all the pain and suffering we each have put into that relationship has been carried away on Isha’s breath… It is such an odd feeling, one I have never possessed before.” Before she can continue, Galifreius interjected with a question

“So, you have never been in love and then lost it before, My Lady?”

“I…” Her beatific face faltered at the revelation. “I… suppose I have not, if I think about it… There have been consorts, people whom I have taken some liking to or other, true, but… now that you mention it, I do not think I would have called any of those encounters, however long or brief, ‘love.’ Sometimes I feel as if what I had with Tyrion was not _truly_ love, simply the imitation of it…”

The two women sat in silence for heartbeats, the tea setting and diffusing between them as neither really knew what to say. Galifreius was the one who broke the silence first

“My Lady,” she hazarded, “I was not with Tyrion long enough to truly see much of your relationship with him, so I do not feel qualified to give you my truest answer, but… I think, I feel, that perhaps the reason you are doubting yourself over the validity of the love you once had is simply an indicator of said love, even though it is now lost.” The surprised reaction of her Queen gave Galifreius the time and strength to press on. “I have seen, found, that the more one loves someone, the more they question themselves when that lover leaves them, for whatever reason. The worse the break, I think, then the worse each doubts their own choices, looking back over and over to see if something they did could have been done better, or could have ‘saved’ their partnership…” The young elf sighed. “At least, that is what I have experienced. I admit I am by no means someone well-versed in the arts of love or romance, mostly what I have comes from family or friends rather than the paltry relationships I, myself, have partaken in…”

“Galifreius…”

“I simply… I simply wish to be here for you, My Lady, in any way you wish me to be. You do so much for our people, for everyone around you. You are the strength of any army you lead, the center of every courtly intrigue or stuffy ballroom dance” that, at least, produced a laugh, “not to mention one of two literal centers of our realms. I…” 

There seemed to be this precipice, a point of decision that hung between the two. Galifreius, despite being the one who held the tipping point in the palm of her hand, looked for all the world like someone scared of a choice someone else might make; Alarielle had the sudden urge to reach out to her, to take her hand and sooth the pain written so clearly across her body—it felt like Tyrion all over again, only with a different _tang_ to it, a different dynamic previously unexplored. Her chest began to hurt with its tightness.

“I just…” Galifreius’s eyes finally met her Queen’s, the first since she began to confess whatever it was she was reaching the peak for. “I want _so badly_ to be there for you, to make sure your hurts can be soothed, or at least understood by someone else. I care for you a lot, My Lady, and not just as a squire cares for her Queen, but…” Her lips quivered, wanting to say something, “I do not know if it is my place to do so… I see… I see a woman who is so hurt, with no one she feels she can turn to, and-and… I want so desperately to be someone you can turn to, it hurts. I know it is not my place, and if you wish to have me thrown out, or disgraced, or-or… I would go if it meant you would feel better.”

The tears, rolling down the squire’s beautiful face, barely had time to reach her sharp chin before Alarielle had leapt from her chair. Her movements, while graceful, were wild, instinctual, born not of thought but of a kind of _need_ that she could not describe. Her slender, strong arms wrapped around and crushed the other woman in the tightest embrace imaginable, trading warmth for warmth as Alarielle carded her slender fingers into Galifreius’s long, blonde locks. Birds sang of this union in the rich forests around them.

The shock of it, the sheer and sudden familiarity of it, nearly struck poor Galifreius down where she sat.

“I-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eldyra of Tiranoc should have been/needs to be a Legendary Hero for Tyrion. Not just because BAMF female/female presenting representation in Total War: Warhammer should (in my opinion) be turned up to 11, but she's also just a really cool character with the potential to flesh out the "Prince" slot with cool flavor and extras.  
> Heck, she even leads armies for Tyrion in canon! Make her a Lord, give her a cool storyline about wanting (and possibly getting) cool mounts other than her special steed, like a griffon or, I don't know, something not in the High Elves' roster! Make it so she's like a mini-Tyrion but a more resk-reward prospect than the Big T can be! Or something else that fits with how BAMF she is, for Isha's Sake!  
> Bim bam boom, done! Creativity!
> 
> Also, as far as I know, yes, you can indeed make tea from alcohol. I've never tried it, but it sounds like a very dwarfish thing to do...


	6. Cold Comfort for Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Mild steaminess ahead
> 
> Choo Choo kiddos.

The Everqueen of Ulthuan sat at her writing desk, awaiting the letter with equal parts dread and giddy anticipation. It was like she was a young girl again—Alarielle had to keep reminding herself that, really, she wasn’t all that old, all things considered—eagerly awaiting her true love’s flowery letters. As she dawdled, Alarielle idly wondered how she could have ever taken Tyrion’s awkward writing style as “flowery.” 

“I was probably just as bad as he is…” She mused.

What she was waiting on was not, however, a letter from a lover. It was pointedly _not_ a letter from a lover, in fact. Confidant, sure, maybe even a close companion, but… The part of her that entertained the idea that the sweet, sincere squire was interested in her romantically came up with all kinds of reasons to support her claim. The letter, or at least the contents of the letter, were about the progress for the Star Crown—Alarielle having forgone the potentially disastrous political ramifications of demanding Loremaster Talarian give his updates to her first before all others, instead simply asking for private correspondence with a young lady who had proven, time and again, to truly care for _her_ , not just for her Queen. The fact that she got her updates only a little while before they officially arrived with everyone else was something she could live with.

They had talked—via letters, of course, Alarielle would not presume to monopolize someone so important’s time—and traded confidences and more mundane things as the Loremaster and the squire scoured for the location of the third shard. Now, it had all come to a head. The third shard had been located, high atop the misty slopes of the Annulii Mountains, a place far above where saner mortals dared to tread. Alarielle had feared the worst.

She had camped her court as near to the range as they would go, under the pretense of visiting a harvest festival—many speculated, but most assumed she went because of worry over the Vortex and the Loremaster’s mission, not his companion—and already it had been two days since the duo had trekked up those perilous slopes. If the Everqueen had been of lower breeding, she would have been biting her nails to smithereens by then.

It hadn’t been all that long since their tea in the forests of Avelorn, but time enough for Alarielle to be constantly replaying that moment over and over again in her mind. The feeling of her skin on Galifreius’s, the heat of her breath, the smooth silk of her hair, the warmth spreading across every nook and cranny… she hadn’t slept so well in what felt like ages. Truth be told, Alarielle was certain she was going mad.

At some time, in the wee hours of the morning, when Asuryan’s light had yet to peek through the teeth of the Annulii, something landed atop the Everqueen. She had been half asleep, so focused on keeping herself awake that she’d spent all her reserves hours upon hours before—her tent was guarded at all times so she had felt quite safe. Fight or flight instincts battled across the eternity of the moment as her assailant pressed more of itself onto her lightly dressed body. She wasn’t given time to choose.

The kiss that enveloped her lips was soft, warm and _utterly_ unexpected. Her frazzled and tattered mind did nothing to stop it from pressing into her, encasing her in passionate, tender lust. _“If this is how I die”_ her rational mind quipped _“it shall be one of the queerest assassinations in all of history…”_ When she didn’t feel any blade pierce her flesh, or poison drip down her throat, the tightness keeping her body from responding to these amorous advances laxened, she even opened her eyes.

Amber orbs locked with hers, full of starshower and wonder and the kind of lust only read about in smutty human novels. Long, blonde locks circled their faces, trapping the two in a curtain built only for them. At last, everything clicked for Alarielle, it all made sense…

_Galifreius._

The squire smiled into the kiss, eyes continuing to dance as her Queen began to move with her in earnest, their bodies starting to mold together for real this time. It felt like the touch of the divine. As if their whole time together, every interaction and private thought and silly letters written between them, had been in service to this one, fated moment. Alarielle could hardly believe it. Her muscles gone lax, there was now nothing keeping both women upright at the angle they had taken, the squire’s still armored weight bringing the couple down to the grass, hard. The knock on the forehead was enough to bruise.

Galifreius laughed, warm and joyous and _clear_ , like she was only just now learning what it was like to live. She had reeled back from Alarielle after knocking heads, coming to straddle the Everqueen’s slender hips with her own powerful thighs, and the warmth sent all kinds of shivers up both their bodies—summer deciding to come back for an encore performance inside the private tent. Alarielle couldn’t stop herself from asking incredulously

“And what in Isha’s name are you doing here!? I had thought you would send word upon acquiring the shard, or at least have the decency to knock before entering!” Even in her nightgown, the Everqueen looked more than radiant, the conservative garb still somehow managing to highlight all her features perfectly.

“I just-” Galifreius continued to laugh uncontrollably, “after Talarian protected me so I could slay that wyrm I just, I felt so _fired up!_ ” Her words turned throaty and inviting “It was all I could do to just speed down the mountain! I simply _had_ to see you, to show you all my feelings, _everything!_ ” The squire barked a laugh. “Although it seems I had less to be afraid of than I'd feared…” 

Her whole body suddenly went rigid, silent. Her tone became small, so unlike the boisterous, brazen warrior who had kissed Alarielle moments before. “Unless…” The poor squire gulped as if breathing her last drop of air, her eyes falling wider than the full moon, “I’ve read this wrong, My Lady…”

Alarielle came to a choice.

“No” she said, “you did not judge wrong in your reading of this, Galifreius.” Her hand, almost without waiting for explicit input, reached up to tenderly palm Galifreius’s cheek. “I was surprised, to be sure, and at first thought you were an assassin out to kill me, but when I discovered it was you, I felt… it was the happiest I had been in a long time.” This, predictably, got a chortle out of the squire

“My Lady!” She scoffed, hand on her heaving breast “I must assure you that I am not nor shall ever be your assassin! I live only to have your best interests at heart!”

It was then that Alarielle noticed the blood, caked onto Galifreius’s clothes and skin. Stains of red painting her like a Dancer’s warpaint, writing erratic lines and pools across her still smooth skin—it somehow added more than subtracted from her look. She could feel a hot hardness grinding softly against her belly, pent up desires caused by her and her alone, and while it surprised the queen, it didn’t really matter much. In fact, it really only mattered more as the young woman bent back down, rotating her body to put kiss after searing kiss on her lover’s lips, dipping further to nip and suck on her slender, pale neck. The feeling of her sex rubbing against Alarielle’s own was pure bliss, even with the few clothes in-between them.

It was paradise and would never be the same again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe
> 
> Queer...


	7. Crazy Diamonds/Reprise

The thirteen days they had spent together had been pure bliss. As the Loremaster sat in his white tower, scrying his rituals and consulting his rune-bones, his faithful shield took her well-deserved rest, although sleep played little part of it. Alarielle had been pleasantly surprised at the stamina of her lover, something many tried to attain but few ever achieved at the height Galifreius demonstrated, but in truth her favorite part of her squire was her intellect. She was wise beyond her years, cleverer and wittier than some of her Handmaidens and had a smile that shone brighter than the Star of Avelorn at its prime. Galifreius was also a mean tickler when roused.

Now, the couple had parted ways, Galifreius flying further north than even Alarielle intended to venture in search of Bel Shanaar’s lost ship, where the fourth and penultimate piece of the Star Crown lay, hidden, for untold centuries. The Everqueen, by comparison, was bound only for the cusp of the Chaos Wastes, where the foul Norscan needed to be punished for their role in the Star of Avelorn’s corruption. When she heard of where the duo was bound for, she immediately insisted her forces provide escort for as far as they were bound; selfish of her, but then again wouldn’t anyone be if they were newly in love?

Love. What an odd concept—Alarielle felt like, for the first time, she really grasped at what that truly meant. Not just the agonies of lying awake, wishing her squire was there, but the happier moments, the dreamy nights thinking of the blonde elf’s strong, sensuous fingers, the endearing letters and sly kisses and winks stolen between public moments. The Everqueen did not want to hide her newfound love and passion, damn what consequences would come. Most in her army didn’t care, they had all chosen to serve something above petty politics and, at most, looked on with knowing winks or inexperienced envy. Even her Handmaidens, those women of such renown and devotion, gave their own signs of approval—however grudging some of them may have been. The breakfast in bed that mysteriously appeared on the third day of the couple’s affair still made Alarielle chuckle with joy and amusement.

The biggest hurdle, in her mind, would be Tyrion. From what Galifreius told her, her ex had barely even sent missives—long or short—since she had been assigned to Talarian’s service. It puzzled the Everqueen, Tyion was not the kind of person to simply abandon a subordinate, regardless of their station, if he could help it—it was one of the things she liked about him, in fact. But, unless Galifreius was withholding things from her lover, Tyrion had, for all intents and purposes, done just that, and to a most critical subordinate at that.

Even with her little mysteries, Galifreius proved nothing but enthralling for Alarielle. Like moths drawn to flame she could not escape the pull of that woman, couldn’t get her warm, smiling eyes out of her head. It would be maddening if it also wasn’t so utterly, completely sweet. Even when she and Tyrion had been at their best together she had not been so consumed with him as she was with her squire—the fact that she thought of Galifreius as “her squire” spoke volumes in the privacy of Alarielle’s mind. 

For the first time in ages, Alarielle felt like writing sappy, romantic poetry. The Everqueen was many things, a deft and romantic poet she was not; despite investing such time as was available for the spiritual heart of the Asur, Alarielle had never found that necessary _spark_ to inflame her verse with desire and romance, Tyrion had liked to call her work “loveably attempted.” But Galifreius, sweet, seductive Galifreius, lit that fire within her belly and within her heart, she practically sang each time her thoughts even drifted towards her beloved. The scenery around the Everqueen’s camp was the most vibrant and lush it had ever been in known history, bar none.

As her warhost raided up and down the coast of the Wastes, starting down in misty Albion for good measure before sojourning further into the Warp-infested shelves of ice and snow, it was all she could do to stay focused on the task at hand. She did not worry for Galifreius, yet—their travels were safely shrouded by the Loremaster’s potent spells and their destination was in the vicinity of the Norse lands, rather than the Wastes proper. Not that any knew the precise location of Bel Shanaar’s lost flagship, listless without its master to guide its aimless journeys throughout the known world, but the Loremaster had assured the various leaders of Ulthuan that yes, he had a sure-fire way to find it and no, he did not expect to encounter trouble in the icy, lonely strait between the Wastes and Norsca. Alarielle remained cautiously optimistic, despite Galifreius’s own assurances.

With the help of her trusted ally, Alith Anar, wraith-leader of the Nagarythe, Alarielle had established enough of a bulwark against the Druchii to feel comfortable personally launching such a far-flung campaign as this. The Shadow King of Nagarythe troubled Alarielle—while brooding manners were not _uncommon_ among a certain strata of Asur, Alith Anar took it above and beyond into unnerving obsession, even for the most driven Asur—but when he had approached her, offering an alliance against their hated kin, she had jumped at the offer of much-needed aid. The contingent of Shadow Warriors gifted to her host had also not gone unappreciated in battle against Druchii and Chaos alike.

Still, despite all the victories and strides both she and Galifreius had made in securing the fate of Ulthuan and the world, something nagged at the back of the Everqueen’s mind, a lingering premonition of doom. She did not know what, when, why, or how, but in her mind’s eye a sign stayed fixed squarely at its center. _Something_ was coming. She had warned Galifreius, their last morning together and, so unlike her previous lover, she had not only taken it without open question but had immediately made a solemn pledge to make it back to her Queen, alive. If the doom she had seen was indeed imminent, it was all that Alarielle could reasonably ask for. 

They had shared one last passionate, love-fueled kiss before the slender warrior finished strapping on her meager plate and leaving her lover’s chambers for her own, solemn duty. It still played its phantasmal tune on Alarielle’s lips days later.


	8. Nobody Knows Where You Are/Solo

She was dead. 

She was dead, she was dead, she was dead she was dead she was _dead._

She. Was. Dead... 

She was dead and Talarian had left her body to _rot._ If Alarielle had not already been up north, cleansing the Star of Avelorn of Chaos’s vile taint, would she have gotten there in time? Or would the chilly ice of the Shrine of Khaine have preserved her beloved’s empty shell until she could find her, amidst the snow? She seethed, Talarian would _pay_.

She had been told so off-handedly, as if Galifreius’s death had been of minor consequence, as if her lover was of minor consequence. She had been bit and torn to death by rats, the letter said, as it slid directly into a call for aid in cleansing the vile ratmen taint from the Vortex, their sigil now clearly her early warning of doom. It was a call she could not answer, not until she had Galifreius’s body.

The Sword called to her, high up in that frozen peak, the elegant and supple hilt of the vine would fit her palm perfectly…

“No! I must not! Isha preserve me, I am here for a purpose, to find her, and no more!” The whipping wind wailed its disappointment through her body.

It was then, as if guided by Isha, that her eyes found the glint of silver on ocean blue peeking through the snow. _Galifreius._ Alarielle scrabbled, dug hand after freezing hand into the cold to exhume the remains, the snow had piled deep. After an eternity of searching, feeling more and more like it had been a trick, or the work of the Ruinous Powers to tempt her, Alarielle found the proof of her convictions. Her squire looked just as beautiful in death as she had in life, almost like a statue of pale marble, and Alarielle wept all the harder at the discovery of her maimed and battered face as it lay, terrified, in the ice and snow. It had been three days, but the Everqueen finally had her lover back.

She cried, sobbed, wailed to the heavens, begging.

“Isha! Isha! Mother of all that is Good! Matron of the Asur and beatific sovereign of Love, I beg you, hear my cries! Your daughter’s heart is broken, shattered and frozen, I cannot go on! Please, please! Grant me my wish and restore my lover back to life, I beseech you!” She felt her limbs start to numb in earnest. “ _Please!_ ”

If it was her fate to die, alone, with only the reminder of her True Love to carry her to Isha’s embrace, Alarielle welcomed it. Life was not worth living, if she could not live it _with_ _her_. Sunlight would turn to dusk, dark clouds would shroud the moon, trees would wither and die as they struck out if she could not be with Galifreius. For the first time in her life Alarielle, Everqueen, knew she could not live without someone. It scared her, but she was far more frightened at the prospect of living a lifetime and more utterly, soul-achingly alone. Her tears froze inside their ducts, bejeweling her sobbing eyes in crystal and diamond.

Then, just as Alarielle felt she would surely freeze there, encased in ice with her lover forever, warmth touched her face. It bade her look, far across the desolate wastes and through snow-capped mountains to home. As if waking from a dream, the Everqueen remembered something she had never heard before, it was her only chance. Isha had heard her prayer and answered.

The distraught woman rose, grasped her lover’s corpse tight, and made her perilous trek back down the mountain, the Sword’s pull utterly forgotten. Her every step felt guided, preordained, as she leapt gracefully from hidden step to hidden step, all thoughts of cold put out of her mind and body. Time was of the essence, if her soul had not fled to a waystone then it was only a matter of time before either The Pale Queen or She Who Thirsts came to collect Galifreius’s fragile soul, if Morai-heg had not already done so. Alarielle wondered idly where Galifreius was even born, she had never told her.

She would pull her back from the jaws of death, it didn’t matter where she had gone. Alarielle would come.


	9. For Truth and Delusion/Bridge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Semi-detailed description of necromantic (hehe, "necro-romantic"...) reanimation ahead. If that kind of thing squigs you out, just know everything will turn out ok and skip to the last chapter. No judgement. :-)

The Everqueen had raced, as if possessed, back to the heart of Avelorn, the Isle of Rebirth—the seat of all that is _Isha._ The Green Vale, nestled in the warm breast of Ulthuan and shrouded in vivacious and primal green, welcomed Isha’s mortal Avatar as she carried her lover’s corpse in her arms. Her feet treaded the waters of the Bay of Cython, although not a drop touched her body as she glided across the surface of the sea, and everything present turned to watch her miraculous pilgrimage, entranced. 

Just as she had done, all those many centuries ago, Alarielle let Isha pick her path as she descended into the valley proper, her Sisters staring at their Queen in reverence and awe. Her goal, the goal of countless other women over the span of ages, lay nestled within the jagged, alluring spire that perfectly summed up the island’s dual nature—from afar, a beautiful monument, up close, a looming darkness eclipsing those before it. Alarielle paid the sight no heed, doggedly marching ever onwards, up the mountain path to the shrine within.

The Everqueen walked with the assuredness of one guided by her Goddess, taking ethereal strides through the dark, foggy cave as if it were daylight on a clear day. The truth was, she barely even saw her own surroundings anymore, all she could see, all she could think about, was Galifreius, lying limp in her arms. The temple hummed as Alarielle approached, thrumming with the lifeblood of Isha and the island around them, the room began to heat—if this were any other time, she might have started to sweat, but as is all she felt was her cold, certain objective.

The Tear of Isha hung, animated, in the center of the oblong chamber with the oracle attending it in placid amazement. “My Lady.” She intoned, but Alarielle would not heed her, all she did was walk ever onwards towards the end. Before her, the stone slab beckoned Galifreius to it, wrapping her corpse in its cold embrace as awareness began to flutter back into the Everqueen’s hazy mind.

_“My Daughter,”_ the voice, soft and motherly, suddenly left the oracle’s now-vacant mouth, _“to rescue your beloved from the blackness of death, you must take my Tear and place it within her breast, let it become the beat of her heart’s dead drum. Only then will her soul be able to rejoin with the land of the living once again, there is no other way now. But you must hurry, time is of the essence as I can only keep her from the embrace of others for so long… Hurry.”_

For an instant, Alarielle froze, the task suddenly more monumental than she initially thought, now that thought had returned to her. She wished for her beloved to return to her, true, but to do so would not only sacrifice the Tear, but with the amount of power being channeled through one fragile body… it might not even succeed—but if anything could be said about Alarielle the Radiant, it is that she was decisive. Taking the teardrop jewel in the palm of her hand, the Everqueen pried open the mouth of her dead lover and launched the jewel down, down into her core with a flick of her wrist and a soothing kiss. All she could hope for was that it would work…

The world stilled, soundless and motionless as Creation held its breath. Alarielle held her lover’s clammy hand within her own hoping, praying…

_A spark!_ Fire like the Flame of Asuryan ripped through the prone and maimed body, limbs convulsing as if in seizure. Alarielle yelped, nearly pulling back and away from her lover were it not for her instinctual vice grip on Galifreius’s remaining hand. The room grew hotter.

Visions of fire licked across the corpse, tendrils enervating and charging each muscle and tendon still there, Galifreius started screaming. Her voice, hollow but ringing over and over and _over_ within the sanctum’s shrinking walls like a fel bell tolling, it was all Alarielle could do not to run over and stop this ghoulish reanimation—she had to slap her own cheek, reminding herself that what was happening would bring her beloved back, even if it sounded as if she was dying all over again.

The fire went from scorching reds and oranges to sickly greens and yellows, the colors of spring somehow twisting and morphing into something akin to unlife. Alarielle forced herself to watch, to listen—she had to be there for her Squire, her Love, come whatever may. The yowling stepped up and up, passing an octave and firmly leaving the dead woman’s normal, smooth range into something much too high, much too sharp. It was as if a banshee had come and perched itself atop the dais, writing its clarion call into the very rocks around them. Alarielle bit her tongue and held firm.

Galifreius began to spasm harder, convulsions wracking the corpse as lost skin and bone grew themselves from where they had once ended. It added to the howling, sickening crunches and fleshy _slops_ the countermelody to the unnatural wail. The Shrine felt more like a necromancer’s laboratory than a sacred place of omens and rebirth, but the oracle simply lay where she crumpled, unable to give comment or advice about anything for a time. Her beloved’s hand gripped Alarielle’s.

She could feel the lifeforce, the raw energies that make up all endeavors of creation, ebb and flow around her lover as more and more entered into her through the Tear in her core. As Galifreius’s corpse reached the crescendo of its ordeal, Alarielle chanced to glance at her lover’s vacant, dead eyes, only to gasp in pain and horror. Galifreius stared back at her, the light that shone upon Alarielle’s whole world looked at her with _untellable_ agony laced into every inch. It was almost enough to make her stop the ritual… almost. The supernatural howling now took on new dimensions, filling out and adding a new, more alive melody to its chorus of pain. Galifreius was alive again, if not whole.

Her body continued to knit itself back together from the flayed and torn flesh it had once been and she writhed as each hair and piece of skin grew into being. It was almost over.

The room spun, Alarielle feeling as if she had run the length and breadth of Ulthuan and back without food or drink. The room sweltered around her as her vision began to blur. The hand placed delicately on her forehead however, told the Everqueen that she was frigid, colder than death in fact. Panic began to shoot through her, her hand closing even tighter around the now reciprocating Galifreius’s. Something started to give out in her body.

As she fell, Alarielle made one final prayer to Isha, asking her to ensure that Glaifreius would live no matter what, and her head hitting a familiarly soft, fleshy cushion was the sign that her wish had been granted. A panicked, faraway voice called to her over and over, it sobbed. She heard something, words strung together in desperation as her consciousness slipped away…

“...after all that has happened… I do not want to live a lie anymore. I am not who you think I am. I am not Galifreius, squire of Tyrion, I…” 

The world trembled as the Everqueen succumbed to her condition.


	10. Shine On/FInale

The Vortex had been healed, the vile plot foiled, the Horned Rat’s armies lay, rotting, amidst the shores of that boney isle. Talarian was gone, taken up into the Vortex to ease the burden of Caledor Dragontamer as the new eye of the nexus. It didn’t matter anymore.

Ulthuan was, for the moment, safe. The Druchii incursions had been driven back from her shores, what rat-warrens constructed in secret across the island had been flushed from existence, Alarielle’s daughter Aliathra had departed for the lands of the Dawi on a mission of peace and the enmity between brothers now had time to heal. The darkness and turmoil that had shrouded the land began to mend, the rampant and clashing forces slowly brought to heel once more. Within the depths of the forests of Avelorn an archway, woven of green wood and laced with glistening amber, lay silent, dormant like flowers in spring. It, too, was an eye of a nexus, albeit a much more primal, divine one.

Within the Grove of the Everqueen, Alarielle slept. Blanketed by deep, verdant forest, the Everqueen rested and recovered from her ordeal, the strain had been too much for her mortal flesh to bear without consequence. None dared to disturb her so soon, none save one. The woman known as “Galifreius,” heedless of any warnings, had tread the path of the woven archway, through winding paths and thick underbrush she stepped with the assuredness of one’s grave duty. It was the one thing left to her.

The stoic woman strode, unthinking, into the heart of the Grove, the light blinding her eyes as it did with all visitors. Everything blossomed. Pure, unadulterated _life_ took up every possible moment of sight, the world regrew as the Everqueen regained herself once more. Awe and wonder suffused itself through the young elf, the sight before her was one so few ever could see, let alone process.

Before her, sat her Queen. Wreathed in roots and leaves, the body of the Everqueen radiated blinding light, as naked as the day she was born, and the recently restored warrior felt it impossible to keep her mouth from gaping. The Everqueen was _beyond_ beautiful. She wanted nothing more than to prostrate herself, worship her beloved in the way only a lover can, but something had to happen first, she had to confess. 

The still form of the Everqueen gazed impassively, coldly, at her, waiting for the woman to approach and make herself known; the Asur known as “Galifreius” felt the hammering of her heart like the forges of the Dwarfs, pumping in and out, _in and out_. _“Now or never, as they say.”_

“Galifreius” approached the Everqueen, enthroned in the tangle of Isha’s embrace, and knelt before her Queen. “I…” Her mind wavered and faltered before the beatific visage. “My Queen, I am sorry…” The Everqueen stayed, silent, and so she tried to find the will to say what needed saying. “I… have not been utterly honest with you.”

The face of the Everqueen shifted, the afterthought of an eyebrow lifted ever so imperceptibly up, as if she both knew and did not know what Alarielle’s beloved was about to lay bare before her. The prostrated woman would have caught the look in the Everqueen’s eye, had she felt worthy to gaze directly at them and not remorsefully at the ground.

“I… am not who I claimed to be. I told you, in the Shrine of the Mother Goddess, that I was not the original Galifreius, that I was not Asur.” She gulped. “It's true. I could not lie then and I refuse to even think of trying now, you mean too much to me to do otherwise. Nothing I 've said to you was false, per se!” Her frantic reassurance garnered no response as she continued. “I simply left out important context to my stories, alongside my true purpose.” She felt the ghostly touch, an ethereal nod not seen with the eye but with the heart, that told her to proceed. “...I was born in Grond, across the Sea of Malice. I lived there for the majority of my life.” Tears welled within her eyes, “I… was hand-picked by Lady Morathi, sent here to infiltrate the retinue of Tyrion and to be ready when called upon by my Lady. I don't know exactly what happened to the original Galifreius, only that she was captured on her way to meet with Tyrion shortly after being accepted as his squire and I was sent in her place. Apparently, we're exact doubles, except for my… appendage.”

The usual, if involuntary, light shiver whenever she openly and verbally acknowledged her genitals managed to pass through her spine even as enthralled and bowed as she was. It was somewhat of a sensitive topic for her, a thing she both felt off about and still found pleasure in when given copious amounts of love, support and acceptance from a lover—just one more dichotomy housed within the young Druchii spy. But the two of them had already had such discussions, more important topics needed addressing, so the imposter called “Galifreius” went on.

“I think, deep down, Tyrion suspected. I doubt my act was so perfect as to be flawless, despite the untold years of training I was forced to undergo.” She laughed, bitterly, to herself. “In truth, none of my training could have prepared me for what happened. I've found you attractive since first I lay eyes on you, My Lady, but it was not my job to seduce the Everqueen and you were already entangled with my liege so… I simply stayed where I was told to. Being his squire was… more enjoyable than I'd initially feared. My Queen must know this, too, but he has a way with words and disdain for formality that is… enticing, to say the least. I am not given orders, it would be too dangerous for someone in my position to be receiving coded messages from Naggaroth, and would not expect any until it was my time to fulfill my purpose.”  
“The Vortex, the argument, those were things I never was expected to deal with—I effectively went off-script the moment Tyrion shouted" her voice taking on a mocking approximation of the Defender's firebrand staccato as she barreled on, _"‘And I will ensure you have a home to return to!’_ in the Grand Observatory. When the two of you fought, that night in your tent, I… It reminded me of when my first love and I… It's a story for another time, I think, but one I am willing to tell the whole of… if you'll still have me.” Her smile, even downcast as it was, managed to weakly shine its rays at the thought. “I… felt for you, My Queen—not just the attraction, or the possibility of gaining valued intelligence, but as a person, as someone who had been devastated by heartbreak just like I'd been—every time I asked after you, every time I came to check in or provide my ear or cautiously flirt, was sincere to the core. Ever since that night I… I could never harm you, my Love, come the End Times or high waters, I will never move to harm you. I was yours the moment I saw the look of betrayal in your eyes when you struck him with that bolt. I swore to myself I would never again let you cry like you had then.”

The Grove, so full of life as to be positively bursting, was silent. All eyes were on the two women, one perched in her throne of roots and the other supplicated before it, as the silence dragged on. An eternity passed, unmoving and soundless, as everything held its timeless breath. Finally, the imposter broke the solemn, voiceless pact. 

“I love you, My Lady. I don't just love Alarielle the Everqueen, or Alarielle the Radiant, or Alarielle the Lover, or Alarielle the _woman_. I love _all_ of you, body, heart and soul.” Her jaw clenched tighter. “You are my world, Alarielle, you have been for some time. If… if you do not want me, after all that I have said I… I suppose I'll just have to understand and leave everything behind to atone for all the sins I have committed.” Her tears dropped onto the fabric hiding her knee “But… but more than anything, I… I wish to stay by your side! I wish to _be_ _with you_ , damn the world and damn the consequences! I would rather die a million deaths than betray you and yours! _I am_ _yours_ …”

She had no more words. As her final, impassioned plea reached its conclusion, the blonde woman lifted her head to meet the Everqueen’s gaze for the first time—it took her breath away. Those iridescent eyes did not speak of death, as they had as Galifreius entered the glade, but shimmered with warm, radiant life. They did not look like the eyes of Isha, or the far-off gaze of someone not fully there, but like Alarielle’s, tender and simmering with love and strength. Gone were the endless black holes of primal energies, swirling magics far older than any still living, and in their place rested the eyes of a lover, looking down at her own. The imposter-Galifreius cried as the Everqueen spoke.

 _“You who called yourself ‘Galifreius,’ her squire, her Love, I have heard your confession. It pains her to even imagine the hardships and perils you must have faced. As you have talked, she has listened, and has deliberated on your sentence, for what you have said is grave indeed.”_ The Everqueen paused. _“She has forgiven you, as have we. Her love for you is like the heartbeat of the forest, primal and beautiful and present in all things—there is no way she would not have accepted you after such a confession in this place.”_

The Everqueen then raised one hand, curling it in a regal yet seductive summons, “Come, stand.” The Everqueen— _Alarielle_ —intoned. “Become my guardian, stand beside me in all things, where you belong, as I belong next to you.” Her smile was the sun, like the Star of Avelorn it shined its halo down upon the couple as Alarielle spoke her last words. “But, pray, what name should I think of you as, other than ‘beloved’?” Still stunned, the imposter could only meekly reply

“I was once Elisé, My Lady, but… I feel… I feel that, perhaps, that name doesn't suit me anymore. I think” she faltered for but a moment, the raging blush finally allowed to spread across her body “I think I wish to continue being ‘Galifreius,’ the woman who loves you, rather than Elisé, the Druchii spy.”

The Everqueen’s face smiled, her beatific visage hardly moving as she spoke. _“Then, Galifreius, stand and take your place beside your beloved.”_ Her hand motioned to her side with the grace of an eagle in flight. _“Take your place as her warden, her champion, her shield, so that the two of you may never be parted again.”_

For a time, it was said, while Alarielle the Radiant, Everqueen of all Asur, recovered from a gruesome trial that left her battered and broken, that those few who went to visit the Everqueen with matters of great importance found themselves greeted not only by the blinding presence of their Queen, but by a stoic, silent guardian in silver and deep ocean blue whose cold, grave face mirrored the look in her mistress’s eyes. It was also said, after Alarielle had fully recovered, that the very same guard continued on with her Queen, ever at her side, and it was common knowledge among the nobles at the Everqueen’s court that she was the Queen’s beloved, her constant companion and lover who would bend heaven and earth for her Lady, as Alarielle had done for her. It is still said, amongst the gossipers, that the two refuse to be anything but overtly enamored with the other in public, stealing kisses and holding hands or arms even in the midst of court. Not that any could, or would, question their Queen or her choice in lovers—it was not their place, after all.

_Fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The conjunctions are an indication of Galifreius's mask "slipping" and her original speech pattern/accent coming through. I did it cus it was a cute little inversion of Courtly Traditions and conjunctions fit the Dark Elves better in my mind than the High Elves (with the Woods Elves in my mind being the total stoner chicks they are, slurring and conjunctioning like there would be no tomorrow XD )
> 
> If this wasn't a Courtly Romance story and therefore required it to "end" on the happy "get the girl' ending, there would certainly be an epilogue chapter where Tyrion goes to see Alarielle after she recovers to go "hey, you know your new Champion's a Druchii spy, right? You can't trust her." (being, you know, a concerned ex-boyfriend/good friend) and Alarielle goes "Yes dear, I know and she's not a spy anymore, she told me about all of it. Do catch up darling." and Galifreius secretly sniggers behind a curtain or something...

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading "How I Wish You Were Here" cover to cover! This has been a work of passion for me, so much so that I ended up having it ready for publication from its initial conception in a week! Like, wow! While I've edited and edited since then, the fact that I felt confidant enough—had planned on it even—to release it in its entirety a week after starting to write it feels like it speaks for itself, at least for me...
> 
> Special Thanks to the various Wikis—the WFB Wiki, the TW: Warhammer Wiki, 1d4chan (/tg/'s Wiki)—for giving me a way to research all the info I needed with only a minimal amount of headache/pain as well as treasure troves of just the right kind of information to pull me deeper and deeper into this world and its characters. Big Thanks to YouTubers SurrealBeliefs, MonstersAbound HeirOfCarthage and milkandcookiesTV for getting me hooked and drooling over everything Total War and especially Total War: Warhammer—y'all are the reasons I am desperately lusting after a gaming PC that can effortlessly run TW: Warhammer 2 and why I nearly dropped all my monies to buy a game I can't even run on my current set-up. The Handmaidens' names specifically come from HeirOfCarthage's LP of Alarielle's campaign because for some reason I suck at coming up with cool, "historically accurate" names for Warhammer characters... bleh.
> 
> I'd love to hear any and all comments/suggestions you can throw at me! If you've got an idea for a story in your head but don't feel confidant/comfortable/the right fit for it, I'd love to hear it and either brainstorm with you or do my own spin on it!  
> I'd love to say "check me out on 'X' or 'Y' social media" but, truth be told, I kinda suck at social media soooo... I don't really upkeep mine, at all. Maybe one day I'll corral my cousin or something into teaching me... someday...  
> But, for now, all my fanfiction works are up here on AO3 for your perusal and enjoyment!
> 
> Love and Happiness  
> -Izzi


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